


Say You'll Remember

by sleepyblinders



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Murder, Crimes & Criminals, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Murder, Period-Typical Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyblinders/pseuds/sleepyblinders
Summary: Alfie’s a man with simple needs and a straightforward business logic but when a famous singer catches his attention and he catches hers in return he begins to wonder what’s really best for his life and what the fuck he’s done with the mess he’s created in his neck of the woods. Camden Town, London centric. (also I’m Lana Del Rey trash and she pretty much helped me make this, thank you queen)





	1. Alfie

 

We both know that it’s not fashionable to love me

But you don’t go 'cause truly there’s nobody for you but me

– LDR

* * *

Nightclubs were the leisure activity of the new age. Nobility, politicians, gangsters, and those in between were seen traversing the nightlife that had grown in England. It was a congregation of a strange mixture of people that wouldn’t be caught dead together in any other setting. It was a perfect place to let loose, where everyone wanted the same thing, jazz, sex, liquor, and a bit of gambling under the table. It was the year 1927, leisure had now stepped out of the home and young females with short hair and short dresses were travelling to the nightclubs.

Alfie Solomon’s ‘bakery’ business was booming, the prohibition in America had done a lot to help it as well. Alfie still kept his ‘bakery’ under the table, he made more money that way. But with the nightlife brewing in London, what he saw was potential and another place to sell bread.

Alfie had his men, including Ollie scope out all the nightclubs in London. There were already three in Camden, and if everything went the way Alfie wanted it to, he would buy out all three and build another.

Every report Ollie had brought back to Alfie about the nightclubs he visited, Darby Sabini was always mentioned. Alfie’s main enemy frequented nightclubs and even owned his own at his end of the city. Alfie knew he needed to act quickly.

Ollie had recommended he visit one for himself, a very popular one west of Camden called Hampstead’s Paradise. Alfie dressed in his best suit, his rings on his fingers, his chain hanging from his coat, and his wide brim top hat on his head. He cleaned up rather well. He had Ollie in tow when they arrived at Hampstead’s Paradise and a handful of men waiting outside for him.

The club was alluring, it had the charm and the razzle-dazzle he hated in the popular music he was constantly subjected to. But he could tell why they were popular, and why they made so much money. There were fixtures of gold in the club, luxury was the theme. Alfie scanned the club from where he stood near the entrance. It seemed a lot bigger on the inside. He took a few steps inside the threshold, he hadn’t made his final opinion yet. He moved to the bar and asked for a bit of dark rum. He stuck his nose above the glass and criticized the drink expertly. He moved toward the stage that currently had a jazz band playing. It was the negro music the young ones seemed to play all the time now. A man dressed smartly, but was evidently a server motioned for Alfie to take a seat in the middle of the crowd at a small circular table, Alfie expected that the server must have recognized him but Alfie paid him no mind, his stoic expression still on his face. Ollie followed Alfie and they both sat down expecting for something important to be shown on stage. The jazz band finished, and the next set was being set up. A microphone was placed at the centre of the stage and instruments were set up behind him. A man dressed in a black suit with red accents walked out and stood in front of the microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen” Alfie scoffed at his introduction. If only the presenter knew that gangsters and criminals frequented this club. “We have the alluring Vivienne Kelly back with us after her American tour. She will be performing a new classic.” The crowd erupted with cheer as many men and women moved to stand to see Vivienne Kelly better. Alfie looked around in confusion as he was still sat down in comfortably in his chair, he had even forgotten to clap for the lady called Vivienne Kelly.

The lighting in the room dimmed down and a spotlight was put at the microphone, but Vivienne Kelly was still not there. It only took seconds for the most glamorous women Alfie had ever seen to appear out of stage right. She wore a silk, sequinned dress that reached the floor and pooled around her like water. It was the palest shade of blue and shimmered underneath the spotlight. Her shoulders were bare, but as she stepped in front of the microphone slowly, she pulled her fur boa onto her shoulders. Alfie couldn't help but stare. Her eyes were a soft shade of blue and sparkled along with her shimmering blue dress. Her dark hair was in luxurious waves that reached her mid-back. She had full pouty lips, a slightly upturned nose and her eyes, her eyes. Alfie couldn’t stop looking at her pale blue doe eyes. Her figure was full for her height, nothing like the skinny flapper girls he had seen around London. She was ethereal. She sang a song, not like the popular ones that he was bored of, but a balled. The strings of instruments began to sound and she stared into the crowd, a piano sounding, soft drums, and then her voice. It wasn’t the high-pitched voice he was annoyed with. It was deep, luxurious, and incredibly feminine.

Vivienne sang the first few lines looking around the crowd, giving everyone a glance to appease their want for her. But by the third verse, she held Alfie’s gaze, and she kept it there until the end of the song as if she were singing to him. The stoic look on his face was replaced by a soft one as soon as she looked at him. Alfie couldn’t help it, he was so enchanted by her; bewitched. She was nothing how he expected a glamorous celebrity to look like, she looked pure, otherworldly. She sang the rest of her set, three more songs, holding Alfie’s gaze. He couldn’t understand why she was looking at him. Was she teasing him? Did she know he had money? Or was he just imagining it all? Ollie was shifting in his chair uncomfortably, occasionally glancing at Alfie in confusion, he knew he couldn’t be imagining it then. She swayed to her song, the line of her body making Alfie shiver. He had never felt this way before.

When Vivienne Kelly finished her set, Alfie left his chair and the few people that were seated around him watched him leave, definitely curious as to why Vivienne Kelly, the famous and glamorous Vivienne Kelly had watched him the entire time she sang. Alfie walked to the bar, the one opposite to the one he had last used. This time he asked for gin. He drank it in one gulp and asked for another. He was there for a few minutes and expected Ollie to sit next to him. He felt a weight shift next to him, he turned his head expecting Ollie to ask him if he would like to leave now, but instead, the image he had only imagined had appeared. Vivienne Kelly her elbow on the bar, half-seated on the stool. Her boa was gone, but her long hair replaced it on her shoulders, her dress was still the same. She gave Alfie a knowing smile, a half-smile.

“White rum and a single cherry, dear” She spoke in a feminine purr. Alfie looked away, debating if he should leave then and there.

“Yes, Miss Kelly,” the bartender answered. The first thing that crossed Alfie’s mind was that she was not married, the second was how the bartender knew her authority.

She received her drink and pulled the cherry out from the glass. She pulled the fruit away from its stem with her mouth, all while looking at Alfie. She addressed him then, she moved closer, her lips to his ear.

“Is your love deadly?” Alfie could feel the goose bumps rise under his suit. He thought her question over and looked at her intently.

“Don’t know much about love.” He paused looking away and taking another gulp of his gin. “But, I can be deadly.” Alfie looked her straight in the eyes and watched her half-smile turn into a grin, her teeth shining like pearls.

“Will you see us sing again?” Her voice moved like a breath, like velvet. She inched closer again. “I’d really like you too.” Her accent was strange but pretty. A mixture of London’s high class and Geordie.

Alfie wanted to say no, he felt like he was being fooled. But he couldn’t show it, he wasn’t going to be made a fool of. His face became stern, as she continued to gaze at him. “Don’t play with me now.” It was chastising, but soft. He didn’t want to harm a lady, especially one he was attracted too.

“I wouldn’t” she appeared to be reaching out to him with her hand, the one laying on the bar. But she took it back before she touched him. She wasn’t sure if that was all right. “See us again. I want to know you.” She stood up slowly from her stool, not waiting for his answer. Alfie waited a few seconds before he could watch her go. An older man, old enough to be her grandfather took her by the elbow and put her in front of the new fancy cameras. Many approached her to take photos with her.

Alfie called the bartender and gave him a tip. “When is she singing again?” Alfie could feel Ollie’s shadow over him.

“She sings on the weekends, sir. Next Friday, she’ll be here again. But only for a month and then she’ll be somewhere else.” Alfie nodded at the bartender in response.

“C’mon Ollie” Alfie called for him. He sauntered toward the exit, Vivienne Kelly’s voice still in his ear, chiming like a melody of her songs.

* * *

 

 


	2. Vivienne

You're in the club, living it up  
I'm trying not to let the crowd notice me  
It's so sweet, swingin' to the beat  
When I know that you're doing it all for me

– LDR

* * *

 Vivienne Kelly sat in front of the vanity mirror. She was in Central London on the top floor of the Savoy Hotel. It was a Thursday night, she didn’t have to sing. She brushed her hair as she did every night, but she would pause now and again thinking about the brooding man that she had sung to last Saturday. He seemed strong, important, maybe rough. She could remember where he left his cane against the bar, the way his top hat lay upon his head, and the many rings on his strong looking hands. He didn’t seem like the type of man any other man would like to get out of line with. But what she remembered best was how he held her gaze as she sang to him. His expression softened as if he were really listening to her voice and not just staring at her like the others.

She liked him. 

She wanted to see him again, but she was also afraid.

Men were cursed for her. The last was worse then the first, and how could she possibly know if her mystery man was anything like the men she’d already encountered. She continued to brush her hair, as her thoughts roamed to his blue-green deep-set eyes. She smiled to herself and forced herself to finish pulling her brush through her hair. A knock hit the door of her suite. 

“Come in,” She called, expecting it to be Bruce Abernathy; her manager.

“Evening,” He stated roughly as he shut the door behind him. It was quiet between them for too long, Vivienne made an effort to speak.

“I’m sure you came in here with something important and not just to stare at us.” She teased a small smile on her face.

“Uh, yes. It’s about tomorrow’s stage.” She saw him push his eyeglasses up his nose through her vanity mirror. “The jazz number, four songs as usual, and also please, you need to engage the crowd more.” She saw him scratch the side of his head, greying hair between his wrinkled fingers. “Singing directly at one person in the crowd, that’s not what your image is about, remember? You’re every man’s girl, every woman’s girl, that’s how we keep your image alive.” His voice was exasperated as if he were bored of repeating himself to her. 

She really hated the image she had to portray, it frightened some from approaching her as if she were really some enchantress, a goddess that couldn't be touched, and the greedy ones tried to take to much from her, slip their hands where they shouldn't. 

But Vivienne felt that he was different, the mystery man, he spoke to her differently. Maybe a little rough, but with enough charm for her to want to hear his voice again. His strange, warm and hearty voice.

“I’m doing it again though. If that man is in the crowd again, I will sing to him,” She put the brush down and got up from the chair. She stepped toward Bruce, leaving a considerable amount of space between them as if she were preparing for a showdown. 

“You can’t, especially not with him.” She could hear he was getting ready to properly reprimand her. 

“And why not?” Vivienne had her hands on her hips her eyebrows knitted together. She was not pleased.

“That man, his name is Alfred Solomons. He’s a gangster he practically runs North London and runs the entirety of Camden Town. He’s a criminal, and we can’t deal with criminals. The last man you sang to wasn’t even a criminal and you know where that left you.” All Vivienne wanted to hear was what the mystery man’s name was, not the tragedy of her past, the horrible moments that left her awake at night still after so long and an ocean away. 

She was thankful for Bruce, he saved her the last time, but the mention of it still hurt her heart. Her hands fell from her hips and she began to walk away from him, she was pacing. “So, where does that leave us, Bruce? To be alone forever, to never get a little affection from someone I’m interested in. You know that’s a sad life,” She rubbed her face with her palms. The only person to ever see her in distress was her manager, and now she never expected anyone else would. 

Would she ever find someone, would she ever marry? 

Her image was apparently far too important. She had to remain available for one of the King’s sons or a top politician, maybe a famous journalist or radio presenter. She wasn’t free to choose, however. When Bruce left, she spent the rest of the night under candlelight underneath the smooth and comfortable sheets of the large bed. Her mystery man’s name on her lips, his soft gaze in her dreams.

* * *

Vivienne spent Friday morning not following the orders Bruce had given her the night before. She was performing of course, at Hampstead’s Paradise, but she wasn’t doing the regular jazz night that she did on Friday’s, she was doing the ballads she sung on Saturday’s but she had chosen different songs this time around. She called her pianist, Reggie, a black teenaged boy that was the leader of the band that accompanied her everywhere. She gave him the song changes and told him to notify and help the rest of the band to get everything ready for the night. She was going to sing her songs for her mystery man, Alfred Solomons. She was going to sing them even if he didn’t show up, but she really hoped that he would.

She disregarded the dance routines she did on Friday’s and planned to do what she felt best. She did her makeup, styled her hair, and put on a red dress with a plunging neckline. It was more of a gown and was one of the most expensive pieces of clothing she owned, straight from a famous designer in France. 

She topped it with her favourite jewellery and her jasmine perfume. She was ready for her performance that evening and she was as jittery as anyone could be. 

* * *

She was waiting backstage to be called. Bruce right behind her expecting to hear some upbeat jazz performance and a dance number to go along with it. He comforted her nervousness, though the real reason she was nervous would have upset him if he knew. He failed to notice the dress she wore was not one she could wear for a jazz performance, and she relished in not being caught.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the stunning, the ravishing, the dazzling, Vivienne Kelly.” She walked slowly to the microphone, trying not to squint her eyes as she reached the spotlight. The delicate smile she wore was for the crowd, she had to give them something. As she gazed around the crowd waiting for the first number to start, she spotted him. The music started as she grasped Alfred Solomons' gaze. There was a smirk on his face, as she began to sing. She couldn’t help but smile as she sang. She knew backstage that Bruce was probably fuming, but she didn’t care. She held Alfred’s gaze and he held hers. 

Between songs, she would look at the crowd wink at some of the men, respond to words of adoration, and then she would begin the next song. She continued to sing to him, Mr. Solomons. The man she was told was a gangster and involved in violence. She’d met several gangsters before, but none seemed to like him. He was looking at her with his chin up and a cigar between his lips. The man that accompanied him the last time was nowhere in sight. 

She was going to see him at the end of the night. She was going to give it a go, no matter what Bruce told her. She had faith in her heart that he was different from all the men she had been with. As her last song ended, she watched him abruptly stand up to the standing ovation, but he wasn’t clapping. He exited Hampstead’s Paradise, without any words. Vivienne’s heart stammered, but she kept the facade up that she was happy to see the crowd; waving and bowing to the people. 

He had left before she could speak to him again. When she went backstage she got an ear full from Bruce but she was told to keep a straight face when she rejoined the crowd. She grabbed a drink from the bar, her regular white rum and a single cherry. She drank two and then she re-emerged. She spoke to three men who all confessed their love for her, one was even a member of parliament, a woman also asked her for advice on a singing career, and several people asked to stand for a picture together. She finished the night late. It was an hour past midnight, and the lights were being shut off inside the club. The band had gone home, and Bruce was waiting to escort Vivienne home. She had just finished her fifth glass of white rum, the cherry excluded. She could feel the burn in her stomach, the dizziness in her head, she was ready to go home. She was melancholic but she was happy that Alfred at least saw her perform.

As she stepped out, the darkness engulfed her. The street lamps were much too far apart to travel safely alone, she was happy Bruce was with her but he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight if anything happened to them. They said their goodbyes and walked down the street to the reach her automobile that she still didn’t know how to drive. The night was filled with disappointment, all she did as she got back to her hotel room, was think about how he smirked at her at the beginning of her set and that he still showed up. He would be there in her dreams if her nightmares didn’t haunt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! :)
> 
> http://alfiesolcmons.tumblr.com/ask


	3. Vivienne

I hear the birds on the summer breeze  
I drive fast, I am alone at midnight  
Been trying hard not to get into trouble  
But I, I've got a war in my mind  
\- LDR

* * *

 

Vivienne performed the rest of her tenure at Hempstead’s Paradise with Alfie in the crowd. She sang to him every night, but he would leave the applauding crowd before she could get off the stage. Vivienne was still happy that he would show up to watch her perform, but the fact that he left before she could even try to speak to him was a clear rejection of her. 

She mulled it over in her head the first week after she had met him, and disappointment bothered her immensely, but when the second week rolled around she had come to terms with it. She was still pleased that he came to watch her of course, but she could not even sense a possible friendship. 

Vivienne had entered the church after the mass had ended. She sat in the back, at the end of the pew, hoping not to be bothered. She felt a darkness swelling inside her and she knew nowhere to turn to. 

She loved to sing but was that really her purpose? 

She could sing forever, she loved it after all, but she couldn’t be the object of everyone’s desire forever, she didn’t want that. 

She just wanted one person to love her in the end, just one. 

She felt alone. 

Bruce was there of course, but she couldn’t consider him in the way she wanted to consider someone. After the brief time she spent in the church she took her time to walk back to the Savoy Hotel. She had no plans for the next day and she was enjoying being outside on her own. She walked down a busy street with many street vendors selling apples and an assortment of vegetables, and then she came across a bakery. The blue sign above the shop read “Veronika’s Bakery” in curly letters. For a split second Vivienne wondered if the bakery was owned by Mr. Solomons, she had been walking for a while and she knew that he owned a bakery, but it took her less time to shut the thought down. 

She went inside and noticed the calming shades of blue on the wall. There was a portrait of a middle-aged woman on one wall, with small Russian text beneath it. Directly in front of the portrait, there was a display of baked goods, a wooden cash register, and two ladies behind it all. 

Vivienne greeted them kindly before she dipped her head down to look at the concealed glass displays of freshly baked goods. She could smell the sugars, jams, and wheat. It made her feel strangely at home, though she never knew any home, to begin with. Let alone one that smelled so freshly of baked bread and pastries.

“Can I have five scones please?” Vivienne had not lifted her head yet. She took a quick glance at the shortcake in the corner. It had an incredible looking strawberry on top, but Vivienne thought best not to buy too much. 

When she looked up both girls were looking at her with awestruck. The one furthest from the exit stared at Vivienne with eyes wide and the one next to her, closest to the door, took a quick glance at the window. Vivienne followed her gaze toward the window and noticed a man in a bowler hat and thick black moustache. Vivienne gulped and shook her resolve in place. She opted for the serene look that she often sported. 

She cleared her throat, hoping to finally catch the girls’ attention. 

“You’re— You’re Vivienne Kelly?” The wide-eyed girl stammered. 

“Yes, I am. Can I have five scones, dear?” They both rushed to grab the scones for her. Vivienne was no longer sure if their strangeness was caused by the man that occasionally glanced inside the bakery or the fact that she was Vivienne Kelly. 

“Here you are, Miss Kelly. No charge.” She said carefully. The other girl tried to smile at her as she said so. 

“Oh, I can’t possibly.” Vivienne couldn’t understand why they were being so strange. Was it really the man standing outside?

“It’s no worry miss.” The girl with the strained smile offered.

“Well, at least let us give you something for your kindness. Put it in your pockets, alright?” She took a pound out for each girl from her handbag and walked around the display to give it to them personally. A pound each was a probably a little too generous as they were part-time shop girls, but Vivienne did have a bad feeling about the man outside. 

“You’re very kind Miss Kelly,” the other girl gave her a genuine smile.

“Thank you for the scones girls.” Vivienne took her bag of scones, put her handbag snuggly in the crook of her elbow, and proceeded to leave. When she passed the man in the bowler hat, she passed him with the most haughty look she could muster, her nose in the air, her lips pursed, and her eyes lazy. He didn’t even bother to look at her, and that was Vivienne’s cue to continue her trip back to her hotel as quickly as she could in case the man followed her. 

When she got back to the hotel she ordered strawberry jam to her room and sat down at a table on the balcony of her room. Only the top floor had balconies for each of its suites. Vivienne sat down for some leisure time. She covered her scones in strawberry jam, they were quite lovely to taste, and then she began to read her mail. There were several love letters, a few job offers that she left for Bruce to look over in a separate pile and then another letter that didn’t fit either category.

Vivienne’s heart fluttered at the touch of the slightly yellow paper. ‘Annie Clayton’ was scribbled in the corner. Vivienne quickly opened the letter to see what her closest and oldest friend had to say.

 

_Viv,_

_I have to say I was quite disappointed you didn’t write to me during your last month in America. I was also expecting a gift if I’m completely honest with you. But, I’m happy to hear you’re back. Are you going to tell me about America? I hope you will drop by for tea, whenever you’re in Birmingham for one of your shows._

_I also bought your last record. It was absolutely beautiful, honestly. I’m so proud of you Viv, you’ve really done it for us, orphan girls. I love you to bits, but if you don’t come to visit me when you’re in Birmingham next we're going to have to talk. Ha!_

_I was also meaning to tell you, Marjorie passed two weeks ago. The funeral was as sad as any other funeral. I miss her, and I’m sure you miss her too. She left her six-year-old son behind, remember him? His name is Simon, he’s a good boy, but the instability and his mum passing has been hard on him. He spent a few days with me, and the rest he spent with his aunt. His aunt seemed nice, so I let him stay, it was getting hard on me to take care of him, and I’m sure Marjorie would have preferred his family to take care of him. But I do kind of miss the little boy, he was entertaining._

_Rupert left a month ago too, I caught him with a woman at a bar. He had the audacity, didn’t he? But I got the house, so I guess things are fine with me, but I am kind of lonely. So, I really hope you’ll be coming by soon._

_Miss you too bits, Viv!_

_Annie_

 

The letter was a lot longer than Annie’s usual letters, perhaps it was because Vivienne had neglected her best friend during her last month in America. The most dreadful month of her life, she had stupidly shut out her best friend. But she was back and content in England, and she knew now that she couldn’t shut out Annie. She was the only solid and unchanging thing in her life. They had been in the same orphanage together, they had grown up together, done everything together, they were more like sisters than any other pair of biological sisters out there. So Vivienne made a mental note to ask Bruce where her next venues were. She wanted to be in Birmingham to see Annie as soon as she could.

Vivienne cleaned up her mess putting everything back inside the suite and then went in search of a fountain pen and a sheet of notepaper. When she got a hold of her items she went back out to the balcony and sat down, soaking in what was left of the sunlight.

She began to write back to her friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm so happy everyone enjoyed it! Feel free to continue to leave messages, tell me what you think of this chapter. 
> 
> Also, Manhattan's Song is coming soon, I promise, it's almost done.


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